


Bed of Four

by rrueplumet



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrueplumet/pseuds/rrueplumet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends are made.  Marius is jealous.  Courfeyrac helps.  [Successful post-barricade AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bed of Four

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow, leaning towards Marius to whisper.  

“My dear friend, I must apologize most sincerely.  I confess that upon hearing your story I assumed you were overreacting as usual.”

“As usual?”

“Your deduction was quite right, however.  This is most peculiar.”

“You think I overreact?”

“When did this begin?”

“It, well...”  Marius whipped his handkerchief free and dabbed at the sweat lining his brow.  “At the wedding, I think.  Not the—not the ceremony...  The dinner, when you made everyone dance and then twirled my new wife off...  I had a bit to drink but I remember you danced with me instead of Cosette—”

“Did I?  That must have been fun.  Regardless, we have a higher task at hand.”  Courfeyrac cleared his throat and squared his hat.  

He and Marius sat side by side on the park bench, cast in the shade of a tree, a blanket spread out on the grass before them.  An untouched basket of food sat waiting for high noon, as well as books and cards, Enjolras’ discarded hat and Cosette’s shoes.   Cosette and Enjolras likewise sat side by side, occupying a space on the blanket.   Enjolras sat with his back to Courfeyrac and Marius while he read a scrap of paper, Cosette facing them while she scribbled something in a journal.   Her head was on Enjolras’ shoulder, his head on her head.   In a sudden moment, without exchanging a word, she tore the paper out of her notebook and passed it back to him, taking the sheet he offered her with the other hand.   They resumed their positions again, Marius and Courfeyrac watching them curiously.  

“You don’t think they...”  Marius swallowed, looking down.  “That they might...  It’s only...”  He twiddled his thumbs and tapped his toes. 

Courfeyrac laughed so boisterously that Enjolras and Cosette lifted their heads.  Cosette looked at him with concern while Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow.   Courfeyrac took Marius’ handkerchief from him, wiping his eyes.   Breathing out, he pat Marius on the knee, smacked his cane to the ground a few times, tucked the handkerchief into Marius’ pocket, and said, “No.”

Cosette and Enjolras stared at them a moment before slowly resuming their places.   Marius sniffled.

 “I did not even finish asking,” Marius murmured.   Courfeyrac rubbed his knee.

“I knew what you proposed, and it was incorrect.”  He removed his hand from Marius’ knee, swinging it over the back of the bench so it went by his shoulder instead.  “Have faith – have I ever led you astray?”  

“Yes.   You made that bet with Monsieur Lesgles and prompted me to outrun a fiacre and—”

“That was one time.”

“What do you think of this, then?”  Marius whispered, leaning in close to do so.  Cosette and Enjolras seemed engrossed in their work, but Marius did worry.   Courfeyrac leaned in as well, pursing his lips as he looked at the pair on the blanket.   This entire venture, a Sunday in the park with little ado, was truly only schemed to afford Courfeyrac the opportunity to see in action what Marius claimed had ‘enveloped his life’. 

“Why, it is obvious,” Courfeyrac whispered, looking at Marius.  “It is a friendship.”

“It is more than a friendship, I should say.  Friends are not so close.”   It was then he seemed to notice his knees were pressed to  _his_  friend’s knees, not to mention their foreheads and Courfeyrac’s arm around his shoulder.    Marius cleared his throat, sitting straight, and Courfeyrac giggled, removing his arm from Marius’ shoulder.   Marius swatted at him.   “Why are you giggling so incessantly?  You’ll worry them again.  Desist!”  Courfeyrac yelped when Marius swiped at him, retaliating with a swat of his own.  Eventually he dropped his cane, engaging Marius in a back forth slap tussle.   Cosette lifted her gaze at the noise.  Marius slid down the bench, folding his arms and tucking his hands under them. 

“Madame Pontmercy, might I ask you a question?”  Courfeyrac asked, leaning forward.   Marius, eyes wide, looked back and forth between them.

Cosette noticed but only spared Marius a wary glance before nodding, seemingly accustomed to her husband’s behaviour.  “Certainly.  What might I help you with?”

“Do you love your husband?”

She looked at him a bit strangely.   “Of course...?”

“That is all, thank you.”  Courfeyrac leaned back.   “She told me she loved you.”

Marius smacked him lightly.   Courfeyrac, playfully indignant, returned the favour until they sat there smacking each other’s cheeks, back and forth without rest.  Cosette stared at them a moment, then leaned back to whisper something to Enjolras.   He looked over his shoulder, regarding the pair strangely, then looked at Cosette with a hopeless expression, shrugging before returning to his reading.   Cosette rolled her own shoulders, glancing at Marius and Courfeyrac again before shaking her head, smiling a bit as she looked down.

 

=

 

“You know, it is funny,” Courfeyrac said later that same day.   They strolled down the park path, Marius and Courfeyrac carrying their supplies, Enjolras and Cosette a few paces ahead with their arms looped.   Marius watched them, his brow curved low and his lips in a pout.    At the vaguest mention of humour, he looked at Courfeyrac.

“I do not find anything so amusing,” he said.

“Well, I know  _you_  don’t,” Courfeyrac said, shuffling the basket from one arm to the next.   “But you rarely do so I’ll hardly call it paramount.  At any rate, prior to your wife I might have said Enjolras did not even realize women existed.   Had he come to me one day with a medical book enquiring ‘what is that and why does it look that way’ I would have been more surprised at his asking me and not Combeferre than I would be his asking at all.” 

“I do not know if that is an exaggeration but it does not encourage my spirits.”  Another moment and then Marius muttered, “I cannot fathom my asking you for help in this matter at all.”

“Yes, I am certain your copious litter of friends were winding down the street to hear tell of your paranoid suspicions for your own wife and a man who would more likely kiss a map than her fingers.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Of course not.”   Before Marius could say more, Courfeyrac went on, “but in return to my rudely interrupted account:  I say only that I find difficulty believing Enjolras bears the intent to woo your beloved and sweep her off to a foreign land where they will parent beautiful republican children to flitter about the globe righting wrongs where they find them.”

“What are you talking about?  I have completely lost our conversation.”

“My point is being that, firstly, your wife loves you.   I will not rationalize it for you – I cannot, truth be told.  I think she has a mad streak—”

“Do not insult my wife.”

“Yes, that’s who I was insulting.  Secondly, if she was seeking an external channel, I should think she enquire after me foremost—”

“You want to seduce my wife?”

“I do not want—Marius, do you even—I was only—I will not bother—no.  That is not my point.  My point is being that Cosette is loving and sensible and devoted and sees you as her equal— _even where she is far superior_...”  Courfeyrac mumbled this last bit, yelping when Marius drove his elbow into his ribs.   “But, regardless, she is steadfast, honest, kind-hearted.  Yet, at once, she is also passionate and wild, bright and clever—hmm, perhaps Enjolras is in love with her.  Perhaps I’m in love with her.  Perhaps we’re all in love with her.  What say you to a bed of four?”

“You make me want to cry sometimes.”

“You nincompoop, I only jest.   Cosette is not interested in straying, and I do not think it likely she stray to a man like Enjolras even if she were—which she is not.  Close your mouth, I can see your commentary forming.   What has developed between the pair of them is a friendship.  Albeit, I do grant you, one more profound than most.   They are both passionate, both a little wild if left unchecked – which you seem to do nothing but check so there is no fear there – and, in truth, however so mad the notion may seem, she does seem to encapsulate many of our ideals.  Even you can see that.  She has shared her story, we see her place now.   How could it not be so?  He respects her for the person she is, as she does him, and if they see anything more than that in one another then it is on a non-corporeal level, one of progress and ideal—yes, ideal.   And you cannot take an ideal to your bed.   You can, however, stare longingly into its eyes until you are driven blind.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do.”

“Well, that is very well then,” Marius said, a bit cheerier, or at least so far as he was capable of being.   “You have settled me well, Courfeyrac.  I wish I could repay you.”

“Perhaps a bed?  Between the four us we could—”

Marius elbowed him in the side again.

 

=

 

“But they don’t even speak,” Marius whispered in Courfeyrac’s ear.   Courfeyrac was hosting a garden party, friends fluttering from corner to corner in the outdoor space.  Marius managed to find him alone long enough to throw his feverish worries at his feet.    “I do believe and trust my wife, more than anything or anyone, but it is so strange.   I cannot understand it.  You must look at them.”

Courfeyrac was halfway to shoving a macaroon in his mouth when Marius grabbed him by the arm and pulled, lifting him right out of his chair and forcing him to drop the sweet.  Whimpering, Courfeyrac scurried after him, slamming to a halt when Marius did.  

“Watch them go,” Marius said.

“Go?”  Courfeyrac echoed.   “They’re just standing there.”

“Not speaking!”

“Perhaps they have nothing to say.”

“They have been pacing for an hour and have exchanged nothing but cordial greetings, and that was for my benefit alone.”  

“You were not very loquacious at a time,” Courfeyrac remarked, then sighed wistfully.   “Those days were good.”

Marius ignored this quip, sucking in his lower lip and watching as Enjolras and Cosette turned from whatever they were watching.  Enjolras lifted his gaze but it was skyward, yet he held out his hand in perfect timing to when Cosette needed it.  She clasped his hold, stepping over a tree root, skirts gathered in her other hand as she did so.   They did not immediately unlock hands, strolling for a moment with them hanging thoughtlessly between their bodies. 

“Would you like me to speak with him?”  Courfeyrac asked.

Marius almost threw himself onto Courfeyrac in delight.   “Yes, do!  Do not tell him I sent you, though.”

“Then you must speak with your wife.”

“What!”

“Indeed.”  Courfeyrac shoved him, following after to retrieve Enjolras.

 

=

 

“That is absurd,” Enjolras said, frowning, shaking his head.   He raised a glass to his lips, prepared to drink, but lowered it again with a clang to keep speaking.   “Coss— _Madame Pontmercy_  and I have a perfectly decent friendship.   There is nothing more or less to be said of it, I assure you.”

“Have faith for I am assured,” Courfeyrac said, and it was the truth.  Even while Marius fret himself into an early grave, Courfeyrac could see the facts well enough. 

At the same time, while he knew Enjolras had nothing malicious planned, Courfeyrac admitted he was not sure if Enjolras completely knew the difference between a ‘decent’ and ‘indecent’ friendship with a woman, especially given he was traipsing about holding her hand and distracting her from her husband almost constantly. Enjolras knew everything was perfectly innocent and so likely did not think twice, yet it was easy for an external source to misconstrue.   That was not say either Enjolras or Cosette were dim in manner.  They were clever and bright, but they saw the world differently, and that might have affected their perception of their own relationship.  But the simple matter of their conduct could worsen, Courfeyrac knew, if they were not careful.   He half-wondered if they were each compensating for time alone, Enjolras prior to the republic’s success and Cosette in her isolation.   He was certain it played a small role, somewhere.   But on the arching whole, there were cracks that needed filling.

“Enjolras, permit my enquiry:  if Cosette approached you with a problem such as this: her bodice was caught and she needed a hand removing it, even while her proposition was innocent and thoughtless, might you help her?”

“Of course.”

“Ah...yes... that is what I thought you might say.”  He put an arm around Enjolras’ shoulder, patting it as he led him away.   “There are some things we should discuss.”

 

=

 

Some few weeks later Courfeyrac was at the Pontmercy house for an afternoon break with Marius.   It was not so peaceful, however. 

“They sleep together now,” Marius said, mumbling into his tea.

Courfeyrac spat his out, dampening Marius’ cravat.   Marius, resigned, only sniffled and wiped at it.  Courfeyrac lowered his tea cup before leaning across the table, looking at Marius oddly.

“I am sorry – what did you say?   And to whom did you refer?”

“Cosette and Enjolras,” he said.  “They sleep together.”

“They sleep together.”  Courfeyrac repeated the words but still could not fathom their meaning.  “ _They_  sleep together.  They  _sleep_  together.  They sleep  _together_...”   Then he realized a fairly important detail.   “How do you mean, exactly?”

“They sit down to read or talk and then they just...drift.    I later find them curled up somewhere in slumber.    Last night he stayed through until morning.   They slept on that very sofa.”   He pointed to the nearby piece.  Courfeyrac glanced at it before resting his elbow on the small tea table, chin propped in his hand while he stared at the living space as though he did not understand it.   “I even endeavoured to separate them but they curled around each other like vines or...or cats or something.  I was trapped for an hour when Enjolras’ leg caught my arm.  I still cannot properly feel the muscle...”  He stretched his hand then, massaging the wrist.  

“Well, at least they included you then.”

“I do wish you would not make light of my woes.”

“I am sorry.  You just have so many of them and I can no longer discern.” 

“They sleep together!”

“For the love of all goodness, Pontmercy!   You had me believing she booted you from her bed to sidle up with him.”

“That is the next step.”

“The next step is my knuckles in your mouth if you do not rationalize yourself at this moment.” 

“I know!”  Marius groaned, burying his face in his hands.   “I do not have any worries or suspicions.  It is only...I am just...”

“Yes...?”

“Jealous!”

Courfeyrac smiled, folding his hands on the table and inclining towards Marius.   “There is the truth of it.    Good Monsieur Enjolras has a friendship with your wife in a different manner than you, and it makes you jealous to see.”

“What do I do?  Oh, what is my life...?”

“There is only one thing to be done!”  Courfeyrac cried, smacking a hand on the table as a judge declared verdict.  

Marius parted his fingers to look at Courfeyrac.  “How do you mean?” 

“You must make her jealous as well!”

Marius dropped his hands to the table, furrowing his brow.  “And how do you propose I do that?”

 

=

 

“What is it?”  Enjolras asked, stepping into the corridor.   Cosette held her fingers over her lips and then pointed through the doorway.  Enjolras wound about to stick his head inside, lifting an eyebrow at what he saw.  “Do they sleep?”

“I...I think so.”    Cosette stared at the sofa where Marius had snuggled up with Courfeyrac, their arms wound around each other and her husband’s head on his best friend’s chest.    She did not quite seem to understand what she saw, but it made her smile nonetheless.   Giggling, she took Enjolras by the shoulder and led him away.   “Let them sleep, let them sleep.”

Once they had gone Marius opened one eye, glancing at the door.  He sat up and promptly shoved Courfeyrac off the sofa.

“It did not work.”

Courfeyrac sat up, patting his hair.   “Very odd.  Most people are jealous of my embraces.”

“ _Your_  embraces!  This was not even about my problem.  Are you still trying to seduce her, then?” 

“I am not trying t—!”  Courfeyrac heaved a breath, interrupting himself.  “Yes, Marius.  I am trying to seduce your wife.  You have caught me.”   With an indignant huff, Courfeyrac rose, stomping about to retrieve his hat.  He tugged it onto his head, lifting his cane and waving it at Marius.   “I will have nothing more to do with this.  You offend me profusely.”

“Courfeyrac—”

“No.”

Marius got up and followed him from the room, trailing like a forlorn puppy while Courfeyrac sauntered defiantly.

“Courfeyrac, I am sorry.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Please stay.” 

“I do not feel welcome.”

“But you are.”

“You have trampled my heart.”

“I did not mean to.”

“I am a broken man.”

“Courfeyrac, please.”

“I am finished.” 

He had the front door open but before he could pass through Marius clutched his arm, seeming so desperate he might have fallen onto his knees at any moment.

“Courfeyrac, please, I need you!”

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“Will you stop insulting me?”

“I will!”

“And questioning my honour?”

“Of course.” 

“Good.”  He slammed the door closed again, turning Marius around.  “Get the good wine for I have tired of tea.”

 

=

 

“Oh look, they’re shooting things,” Courfeyrac remarked, delighted.  Marius went to the bedroom window and peered down, watching as Enjolras wound an arm around Cosette to help her position the gun correctly.  Marius whimpered.   “Ahem.”   Marius straightened immediately, though he glared somewhat at Courfeyrac after doing so.  “That is better.   Come, how about we join them?  Have you even tried inviting yourself?” 

“No.”

Courfeyrac sighed, tugging Marius along.

“Salutations!”  he cried happily once outside.  Marius trailed a few paces behind, shrugging his coat on.  “Enjolras, friend, I am pleased to see you are wholly ignoring my advice on fashion and have opted to impolitely run about in your underthings.”

Enjolras furrowed his brow, glancing down at himself.  “What are you talking about?”

“Put a coat on, man,” Courfeyrac said, tugging on Enjolras’ rolled up shirt-sleeve.  “And do up a button, they’re there for a reason.”  Enjolras swatted at him when Courfeyrac leaned forward, trying to pull the undone top buttons together.  

“It is warm today, let me be.” 

“Monsieur Enjolras and I had a good debate,” Cosette said to Marius, approaching with the gun.  Marius turned pink, whether from direct conversation with his own wife or the gun, not even he seemed sure. 

“Yes,” Enjolras added, tone a bit lighter now that he was not fending off Courfeyrac.   “I might have sworn I was debating Combeferre in many of the stances she took.”

“You should be sorting this out like civilized folk,” Courfeyrac said.  “Pistols or swords, not bayonet guns.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and Cosette laughed.   “I appreciate the instruction,” she said, smile soft as she turned back to Enjolras.  “But I fear I will never bring myself to carry it out.  As such, I should not hold something I do not intend to use.”  Enjolras took the gun from her, nodding. 

“This is not the time for guns anyhow,” he said, planting the base of it on the ground. 

“Combeferre, you say?”  Courfeyrac asked, stroking his chin.  “I do suppose that explains a fair deal as well.”

“Explains?”  Cosette asked, tipping her head.  Marius gnawed on his lower lip, looking from Cosette to Enjolras to the gun and then Courfeyrac.   

Courfeyrac, oblivious, nodded.   “Yes, indeed.   Anyhow, I think you might appreciate his companionship as well, Madame Pontmercy.  I should arrange a—”  

Marius only meant to warn Courfeyrac, treading lightly on his foot to cease before he extended invitations that could lead to more troubles.   Unfortunately, Marius was not as graceful as he thought he was, and so drove his foot down on Courfeyrac’s and made him wail.

“Marius!”  Cosette cried.  Enjolras dropped the gun, letting it fall as he looked at Courfeyrac in distress.  Courfeyrac clutched his foot, hopping around.

“I did not—I was not—” Marius stammered.  

“What purpose did that serve?”  Enjolras demanded, reaching for Courfeyrac.  Courfeyrac refused his hands, tentatively lowering his foot before adjusting his jacket.

“Where is my hat.”  It was less a question than statement as he turned heel and stormed away. 

Marius hurried after him instantly.  “Courfeyrac, wait!”

“Not this time!”

“It was an accident!”

“I am certain!”

“Courfeyrac, I beg you!”

“I will not fall for your charm again! “

“Courfeyrac, I told you, I need you, you mustn’t go!”

“I will and I am!   Goodbye, old friend, for I knew thee well at a time!” 

Marius threw himself in front of the door, blocking Courfeyrac’s way inside.   Courfeyrac reached for a hat he was not wearing, then heaved an aggravated grunt. 

 “Let me pass.”

“No.”

“I will remove you.”

“Then remove me.” 

They stared at each other a long while, breathing harder than necessary, their gazes intent.   No one, least of all Marius, anticipated Courfeyrac seizing him by the lapels of his coat.   Yet, rather than placing him aside, Courfeyrac planted a wet kiss on his mouth, then dropped him and wept in bitter and almost theatrical anguish.

“My dear, dear friend!”  He fell to his knees, covering his face.  Marius, flabbergasted, stood pressed to the doorframe, holding it for support.   “How I cherish our friendship!   The bumbling mess of my springtime days!  The awkward silences!   The clumsy greetings!   The nights we slept together!”

“Slept together?”  Cosette asked, lifting both eyebrows.  Enjolras had his brows furrowed, arms crossed. 

“Oh yes,” Courfeyrac wiped at his cheeks, looking up at Cosette from where he knelt.   “I have a terrible fear of the undead and often needed a sleepy embrace.”   With that, he wrapped his arms around Marius’ legs and held.   “He can never be replaced – just as I can never be replaced in his esteem.  Is that right, Marius?”

“Well, I—”

Courfeyrac tugged on his trouser leg and it was then Marius understood.

“Ohh...yes...irreplaceable.   Very much so.  There is no other!” 

“We have a history,” Courfeyrac continued.

Marius nodded vehemently.   “A long history.”

“Full of joy.”

“And sadness.”

“And hope.”

“And despair.”

“The best days of our lives.”

“And the worst.”

 “Help me rise, brother,” Courfeyrac said, extending his hands.  Marius grabbed his wrists and tugged him to his feet, catching Courfeyrac when Courfeyrac tossed his arms about his neck and held Marius close, sighing.   “There is nothing I would not do for him.”

Marius smiled and it was less theatrical.  He even returned the embrace lightly.  “Yes, and I him.”

Courfeyrac leaned back to look down at him and seemed to realize the hint of sincerity.   He smiled brightly before genuinely embracing him.  Marius held him in return, patting his back, head on his shoulder.   They stood there for a moment and even seemed to forget Cosette and Enjolras watched them.   When Marius opened his eyes and saw them he coughed, leaning away from Courfeyrac.   Courfeyrac did the same, giggling nervously as he adjusted his coat again.  

Cosette smiled warmly at them.   “That is so very sweet.”   

“Sweet!”  Marius cried, fingers threading his own hair.  “She calls it sweet.”

“It is a bit sweet,” Courfeyrac relented.  Marius huffed.

Cosette, confused, tipped her head.   “Is something the matter?”

“You.”  Marius pointed to Enjolras.   They all stood there a moment, waiting.  Enjolras seemed to realize the direction and uncrossed his arms long enough to jab at his chest in confusion.   “Yes, you.”  Marius stormed up to him, leaning into his face.  “Why are you such a beautiful man,” he murmured, then breathed in deeply, boiling his frustration to a peak.    Cosette stared at them.  Enjolras glanced at Cosette even while Marius watched him intently.  Cosette looked to Courfeyrac who just shrugged.   It was in that brief respite, Cosette’s attentions distracted, that Marius promptly spun towards her.   He almost tripped, but made the full journey regardless, and gathered his wife into his arms before delivering a long, hard kiss to her lips.   She squeaked in surprise, but clutched his shoulders and happily returned it. 

Courfeyrac only marginally turned towards Enjolras when Enjolras said, “I’m not kissing you.” 

Courfeyrac turned away again. 

 

=

 

“Courfeyrac?”

Courfeyrac, halfway out of the room, glanced over his shoulder.   The lights were dimmed, most lamps doused, windows shuttered for the night.   Cosette, Marius, and Enjolras sat on the floor by the sofa, Marius tucked into her embrace and Enjolras resting his head on her knee.   Cosette and Enjolras were both fast asleep, but Marius blinked drowsily to where Courfeyrac had gone.

“Are you leaving?”  Marius asked.

Courfeyrac straightened.  “Yes...ah...I do believe I have overstayed my welcome.”

“You are always welcome,” Marius said, yawning.  

Courfeyrac lingered in the doorway, fidgeting with his hat.   Eventually Marius nodded and Courfeyrac grinned, tossing his hat aside before throwing himself over the sofa.  He plopped down beside Marius, kneeing his stomach and making him yelp.   With Courfeyrac’s gentle apology, Marius wheezed his forgiveness, then put an arm over Courfeyrac’s shoulder.   Courfeyrac rested his head on his knee, smiling contently until they both drifted off to sleep.   


End file.
